The Spirit of 724
by TheNerdyAvenger
Summary: The last day Sydney Poindexter would let himself be bullied. TW: Bullying, Suicide


Today was the last day I'd be bullied one way or another. I refused to allow myself to be shoved into locker 724 ever again. I was psyching myself up the entire way to Casper High. Someone patted me on the back and said "looking good Poindexter!" I took it as encouragement and stood a little taller. I got halfway down the hall before someone kicked me. I reached around taking the "kick me" sign off of my back thinking that at least these bullies could get a little more ingenuitive with their tactics.

When I finally got to my locker I looked to either side of me, no one was looking maybe if I were fast enough I could get my text books without being shoved in. I dialed in my combination, right 37, left 60, right 19, opened the door and stuffed the books in my canvas over the shoulder bag and fixed my hair in the mirror fixed to the back of the locker.

I looked down, looked back up and saw the prettiest girl in the school in my mirror. I looked up to the ceiling knowing what was about to happen.

"Hey Simon!"

"It's Sydney. Hi Peggy."

"Are you sure?"

We've been at this school for three years now and she's given me a new name every other week since we started.

"Very."

"Oh."

She paused for a moment like I had just told her a man could ever walk on the moon. She hadn't always been like this. In fact I could remember playing hopscotch the week before high school started.

"Hey there's going to be a party in a few weeks, I was wondering if you wanted to tag along?"

I tried to remember they this same thing happens everyday. And I've still never been to a party. It's always been pushed back or at a different house or I've been laughed away from the house out was in.

"Why do you think this is funny? Do you get your kicks from making me look like a fool?"

"Eh Poindextah! You bettah watch your mouth when you talk to my gal!" Roger Baxter.

"Yeah Poindexter, I'm offended." Her smile said otherwise.

I opened my mouth wondering when exactly I'd ever said anything rude to her in my life. I was shoved into the locker beside me with a loud clang. I hoped that the teacher on the other side heard, but given that several teachers had pasted "kick me" signs as well, I didn't give that thought much hope.

"You'd better apologize 'fore I get mad."

"I'm sorry."

"What was that?" The people around us were starting to watch. No one came forward.

"I'm sorry."

"I'm really not hearing you Poindexter you keep mumbling."

"I'm sorry that your harlot girlfriend was offended you great brute!"

I had no idea where that came from. My hands reached up to my mouth.

"You did not just day that!"

"You little freak!"

Baxter's fist met my stomach and my breath left me with a great whoomph! Stars flashed across my eyes as Baxter kicked my head. I was lifted by my arms by one of his buddies and punched in the gut again. My head was swimming as two more punches met my face. I was crammed into my locker and blood from my nose smeared over the mirror. My bag was thrown in with me. My glasses, now broken, were thrown in with me. The door slammed on my leg, which was then pressed into my gut when the door bounced off of it.

I don't know if I feel asleep or if I passed out but I know that it was dark when I woke up. And not just because I was in a small steel box. Looking out through the small slots in the locker door I could just barely see the far wall. I punched my legs as best I could in the cramped space. It had happened again. I some how managed to move my arm to my school bag and opened the side pocket pulling out the small cardboard I'd placed there this morning. My parents wouldn't notice, they had loads of these, we'd had an infestation of rats a while back and my parents bought the poison in bulk.

I started at it for quite some time, inspecting it. It wasn't much larger than the cigar boxes my dad collected. I opened it and poured a few pellets into my hand. They were a bright blue, I guess so the rats would think they were interesting enough to eat. I poured a few more into my palm and paced them into my mouth. They didn't taste that bad. I put a few more into my mouth.

And a few more.

And another five for good luck.

Richard didn't think much of the scrap of clothing hanging out of locker 724. Just a shirt that some kid wasn't careful enough not to catch when closing their locker door.

He decided to do a good deed and fold the cloth back into the locker where it belonged. He put the master key into the dial and opened the door. Sydney Poindexter's body fell at his feet. A half empty box of rat poison hit the ground, split, and scattered all through the vacant hallway.

The funeral service was attended by two people. The minister, who almost didn't attend, and the janitor who found him. Poor Sydney Poindexter even has his name misspelled on his tombstone. Sidney Poindexter.

His parents couldn't pay to respell the marble. Nor could they afford the time to go to his funeral, his father was setting up a big business deal and his mother didn't want to go alone. They visited the next day. And then the next week. And then the next month. And then every year. And then every once in a while. And then if you were to ask the Poindexter's they wouldn't be able to tell that his tombstone had been broken by a clumsy gardener. Or that it wouldn't be replaced for another year. Or that they'd ever had a son at all.


End file.
